


In the Marketplace

by AliciaSinCiudad



Series: Rebuilding [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M, Mental health is a journey, The New City of Jedha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 17:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10598394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliciaSinCiudad/pseuds/AliciaSinCiudad
Summary: Bodhi and Cassian adjusting to post-war life in New Jedha City. Bodhi struggles with triggers. Will not necessarily make sense without having read "A New Hope" (the fanfic, not the film.)





	

Working on the New Temple had awaken something in Cassian, something that had been dormant for years. It wasn’t just having a purpose – Cassian had always been driven, had made every decision with the Rebellion in mind. It wasn’t just hope either, although that was part of it. There was something else – not quite innocence, although there were entire minutes where not a single cynical expression passed his face. Bodhi figured it was all connected to his newfound faith in the Force. A faith Bodhi could not share, as much as he wished he could. So while Cassian rose every morning to work at the Temple, it fell to Bodhi the more mundane tasks of shopping, cooking, and generally settling down in their new home in New Jedha City.

Bodhi had grown up haggling at markets. It was part of Jedhan culture, and he had assumed it was universal, until he went to train at the Terrabe Sector Service Academy. There, he’d try to haggle over a pair of goggles, and the merchant had not just looked annoyed, but disgusted, as though Bodhi were some sort of backwaters primitive. Still, haggling, like gambling, showed up fairly frequently across the galaxy, and Bodhi was adept at both of them. At least, he had been.

He was trying to buy a kettle – Cassian made tea in a saucepan, when he made it at all – and he thought he was offering a decent price, but the Lorrdian vendor was having none of it.

“Please, what kind of a price is this? You must remember, we are trying to make a living here. We lost everything when NiJedha was destroyed. I saw with my own eyes the destruction of the city, and if I hadn’t been out in the mountains that day, I would not be here to tell the tale. The chaos, the rumbling beneath your feet, everything crashing and collapsing into itself, you can’t imagine…”

Bodhi could imagine. Bodhi was imagining. Bodhi was there. The world was collapsing around him, and he couldn’t get himself to move. His city, his home, disintegrating into dust. He was paralyzed, his temples still slick with the slime of Bor Gullet. Stay or leave? Did it matter? The message, the message, he had brought it too late…

“Ibni, can you hear me?”

That one word brought Bodhi back to himself. No one had called Bodhi ‘my son’ for so long. He blinked. “Ammo?” _Uncle?_

“I am here, Ibni.” The man before Bodhi had a kind, concerned face. It wasn’t familiar, and yet at the same time it was, it was the sort of face he used to see every day when he was younger. “Can you tell me your name?” the man asked.

“Bodhi. Bodhi Rook. I’m – I’m the pilot…” Bodhi knew there was something he was supposed to be doing, but he didn’t know what. He closed his eyes, and Jedha City fell around him. “The message,” he whispered, “I have a message. Can you take me to Saw Gerrera?”

“Saw Gerrera is long gone, Ibni. Do you know where you are?”

“I’m in Jedha City. I think. But – I saw it destroyed. I was there. How am I here? It’s…” Bodhi took a deep breath. “No, I remember. It’s a new City. Rebuilt on the rubble of the old one.” Bodhi felt a weight on his body, and realized that the man was placing a shawl on him. He had been shaking. But he wasn’t cold. Just – hollow.

“We are rebuilding, yes. Did you return recently?”

“We got here a few days ago.”

“We? So you are not alone. Good. Who is here with you?”

“My partner. He’s – he’s not doing very well. I should be taking care of him. He’s not well, and I should – I should…” Bodhi shuddered. You could buy so many things at the market. Could you buy Lullaby pills? Cassian shouldn’t be alone. ~~~~

“Where are you staying?”

“At an inn. It’s called…” Bodhi searched his brain for the name. After a few panicked moments, he managed to come up with it.

“Do you know how to get there?”

“Yes…” Bodhi didn’t know how to get there. Why didn’t he know how to get there? Where was he, anyway? Where was Cassian? Had he killed himself, after all? Where was Jyn? Where were Chirrut and Baze? Had they all died in the war?

“Let me come with you, just in case.” The man turned to speak to a Lorrdian who was avoiding Bodhi’s eyes. “Please, keep an eye on my stall this afternoon. Any profits from sales you make are your own to keep.”

Before Bodhi knew it, he was walking, the older man’s hand reassuring on his shoulder. They walked at a slow enough pace, but Bodhi stumbled anyway, distracted by his own confusion.

“Are you alright?” the man asked, pausing to give Bodhi time to catch his balance.

“Who are you?” Bodhi asked.

“My name is Rameen. I was in the stall next to you when you – well, I don’t know how to put it exactly. You had an episode. You are still having an episode, Bodhi, but you are coming out of it.” Rameen resumed walking, a little slower this time, his hand still on Bodhi’s shoulder, guiding him forward.

“How do you know my name?”

“You told me, Ibni.”

Bodhi felt tears trailing down his cheeks. He hadn’t even known he was crying.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. And I’d really rather not discuss it until you are safely back at the inn. Instead, why don’t you tell me about yourself? Why have you returned to Jedha?”

“I wanted to see my moon again before I died. I didn’t know they were rebuilding the city. I never came back before. I didn’t want to see –”

“And you arrived a few days ago?” Rameen interrupted.

“Yes, we arrived a few days ago. I made him promise he would come with me.”

“He? Meaning your partner?”

“Yes. His name is Cassian. He was going to kill himself, but we convinced him to wait. Baze convinced him, he’s a friend of ours. And I got him to come with me to Jedha, to see where I’m from, before he did it. I don’t know, I hoped he might decide he loved me enough to live.”

“Ibni, you cannot save anyone alone. Love is powerful, but it cannot cancel out such deep despair.” Rameen squeezed Bodhi’s shoulder. “There are resources. For refugees, for veterans. Many come to Jedha, aimlessly searching for meaning, but no faith or holy place can save them all. So there are organizations to help those who would slip through the cracks.”

“You know, I think faith might actually be helping Cassian. He’s been talking with this monk, and working on rebuilding the Temple. It’s a little unreal, I never thought he would be a believer.”

“Are you?”

“Not really. I mean, I’ve heard the stories of the Jedi, I even met the famous Luke Skywalker, I know there’s _something_ to it. But it doesn’t feel separate from science. I mean, I believe in mechanics, too, but it doesn’t give meaning to my life.”

“What does?”

“Nothing,” Bodhi admitted. “I spent five years fighting the Empire, and the last few weeks caring for Cassian. But the war is over, and Cassian’s found something at the Temple, something I can’t share with him. He doesn’t need me. I have no family. My home – they rebuilt it without me, too. I had a purpose once, and I filled it. The war is over, and I’m unnecessary.”

“Do you think you could find something else, as your partner did?”

Bodhi shrugged. He felt heavy. He realized that he was having the same conversation Cassian had had with him so many times, those conversations that had drained Bodhi, leaving him empty, sick, and cold. And now he was bringing the same thing upon a stranger. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“For?”

“You don’t need to do this.”

“I’m worried about you, Ibni. I’ll feel better when you’re back in your inn, with your partner. Although I’m not sure your partner’s the most stable companion right now, either.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m not your son. I’m just a stranger in the marketplace.”

“I _did_ have a son,” Rameen said quietly. “He was conscripted into the Imperial Army – perhaps you were too?”

“I was.” Bodhi bit his lip. “I defected. But… it took a while.”

“Shaheen did not defect. As far as I know. He wanted to be a pilot, but he was made a Storm Trooper. Thrown into battles, like toy soldiers, interchangeable, who cares how many come out alive?” Rameen’s voice was quiet, but there was rage in it. He shook his head. “He would have been around your age, if he had lived.”

“I – I wanted to be a pilot too, a starfighter, but I failed the test. They made me a cargo pilot.”

“You didn’t fail the test, Ibni. They weren’t accepting Jedhans. Unofficially, of course. But how many Jedhan starfighters did you see in the Imperial Army? How many Jedhan officers?” Rameen sighed. “Anyway. I helped you at the market because I’d like to believe that, if he had lived, someone would help Shaheen, too. You are also somebody’s son.”

“Not anymore. Everyone’s dead.”

“Not everyone, Bodhi. We are rebuilding. Hope is never lost.”

“How did you survive?” Bodhi realized what a horrible question it was after it left his mouth. But he didn’t understand how anyone could have made it. He had been rescued by an android, fellow defector of the Imperial Army, flown off the moon while the world crashed around him. How had anyone else survived?

“I am not from the Old City,” Rameen replied. “None of us are, or nearly none of us. There are those very few who happened to be elsewhere at the time. But most of us come from somewhere else. The pilgrimage never stopped. It slowed, it even went underground for a while, but it never stopped. Jedha is special. Even if they destroyed the entire moon, it would be rebuilt elsewhere.”

“So you believe.”

“It doesn’t matter if _I_ believe. It’s important to people across the galaxy, all species, all faiths.”

“Then what brought you here?”

“There was a need for merchants in NiJedha, and I am a merchant. I’m too old to build temples, but selling textiles and clothing, that I can do.”

“Not everyone comes for the Faith, then?”

“No. I believe in the Force, in the unity of our spirits, but I don’t think you need to live in any specific place to feel it. They say the strongest Jedi come from everywhere, from Tatooine to Coruscant.” Rameen paused again, stopping gently enough that Bodhi did not stumble. “Is this your inn?”

“It is. Thank you.”

“Let me take you to your room. We’ll see if your partner is here. If not, I can stay a while.”

“I think I’m alright now, you don’t need to stay.”

“Bodhi!” Bodhi looked up to see Cassian running toward him from the street. “I was looking for you! Where did you go?”

“I went to the market.”

Cassian stopped a few paces from Bodhi, giving him a quizzical look. “If you went to the market, why haven’t you bought anything? And who is this man?”

“My name is Rameen.” Rameen made to hug Cassian in greeting, and Cassian hugged him back, his face still showing confusion.

“I’m Cassian,” he said, then turned back to Bodhi. “Do you two know each other?”

“We met at the market,” Rameen explained. “Your friend here was having a hard time. He got lost, and I was helping him find his way back.”

Cassian lay his hands on Bodhi’s shoulders. “You got lost? Are you ok? You look sick, do you feel alright?”

“I’m fine, I just got a little confused back there.” Bodhi rubbed his temple, as though wiping off the touch of the Bor Gullet, a habit he’d picked up after the torture in Gerrera’s caves. Cassian kissed him on both temples, then on his forehead, and looked him straight in the eyes.

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

“I’m fine, really.”

“Next time, we’ll go together.”

“Alright.”

“Bodhi, my son, before I leave, I have a request. Please come speak to me again. I can help you find those resources I spoke of. And also, just to talk. It’s nice to talk with a young person every once in a while.”

Bodhi, in his late thirties, did not feel particularly young, but he supposed everything was relative.

“Will you remember my name? Rameen, the clothing-seller, by the Eastern Gate of the Great Market.”

“I’ll remember,” Cassian replied. Bodhi blushed, wishing his memory weren’t so faulty.

“Come tomorrow, around noon-time. We can have lunch, and talk. The three of us, if you wish.”

“That would be nice,” Bodhi said. He hugged Rameen. “Thank you so much. For bringing me back, and for talking.”

“Be well, Abnayi. May the Force be with you both.”

“And also with you, Uncle,” Cassian replied, hugging Rameen again. “Thank you for helping Bodhi. May the Force be with you always.” Rameen turned to walk away, and Bodhi and Cassian walked back into their inn. It wasn’t until they’d gotten to their room that Cassian commented, “I don’t recognize that shawl.”

Bodhi bit his lip. “It’s Rameen’s. I forgot I was wearing it. I’ll go return it now.”

“Let’s go tomorrow. Right now, I want to hear what happened. Maybe over a cup of tea. If you’re feeling up to it.”

“I’m up for anything, if tea is involved,” Bodhi joked. “And you can tell me about your day, too?”

“Alright, be prepared to hear all about the different kinds of stones we are using. It’s actually quite fascinating, I never would have guessed.”

“I will definitely need some tea to brace me for this, then.” But even as he joked, Bodhi wondered if living here would ever get easier. He brushed his hand against the shawl Rameen had lent him, and supposed that there was more than one kind of faith.


End file.
